


A World Away

by RoyEdIsMyAesthetic



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist (Anime 2003)
Genre: Airplanes, Airports, Brother Feels, Brotherly Love, Brothers, Cancer, Character Death, Diary/Journal, Love Letters, M/M, Mentions of Cancer, Sickfic, royed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-07
Updated: 2018-12-07
Packaged: 2019-09-13 07:27:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16888206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoyEdIsMyAesthetic/pseuds/RoyEdIsMyAesthetic
Summary: A plane flying over Munich reminds a sick Edward of a certain someone.





	A World Away

The Zeppelin, the airplane, and the rocket, each flying higher than the next.

There was so much to find wonder in, within this new world.

It was an old world, a very old world indeed, but to Alphonse, it was still so very new. In the many years since he arrived in Germany with his brother, Alphonse still found himself to be a tourist. He still found himself going outside, craning his head back, and gazing upon the sky which he, and only one other, realized was different, not in the clouds it contained, but in its totality.

In its essence.

In its everything.

And like his late counterpart Alfons Heiderich, Alphonse believed that there was something beyond that sky. Ed too held this belief at one point, but Al wasn’t quite sure if this still rang true. Either way, even if there wasn’t something beyond, Edward found plenty of things to look at.

In fact, that’s all he did these days. He looked at things, for he could do little else.

Ed had truly believed that his ticket home was in the sky. He spent so much time with his head up in the clouds that he failed to realize that the fumes were damaging his already broken body.

The cancer had taken root in his lungs, and there was nothing that Alphonse could do but stay strong and make sure that Ed was comfortable. And that was really the worst thing they could have told Al, because we all know what that really means.

You could believe that it was a heavy burden for young Alphonse to bear. But all siblings who are close understand the fact that a sibling is never a burden, but always a gift. Siblings sometimes lose sight of that fact, but they always circle back around to it; just as the days did circle, always the same, never changing, but always filled with… with a bittersweet... solemness.

Edward had made a home in the armchair which had been brought up to his bedroom. The chair was situated directly in front of the window, and all day, he would look out at the canvas of a cloudless sky.

And he would dream of flying.

For a good part of the day, Alphonse would sit on the bed at the opposite side of the room. He would watch his brother silently sit there, and he would wonder what in the world it was that Edward wanted to leave him for and fly away to.

Ed wanted to fly away.

And that?

That was painful.

And it was the reason why, after all of this time, Alphonse disliked Roy Mustang so very much.

It was a quiet day, as most days were, and Al was sitting on the bed, the sheets at the spot wrinkled in all the same ways, because he sat in the same spot nearly every afternoon. But this afternoon, the still air of the bedroom was broken as a plane flew over the apartment building. While such a thing would usually call Al to the window to investigate, this time was different. The sound was sick, reminding Alphonse of a horde of house flies which congregate over the dead, and the rotten, and the forgotten. And yet Ed continued to sit there, still as a statue. Unfazed as gossamer curtains billowed around him in the breeze, ghosts tied down to the earth.

Edward had been quiet for hours. But after the sound dissipated, he finally spoke, his back still turned to his younger brother.

“I think I saw a fighter bomber just now…” a voice whispered with wonder.

The occasional plane was the norm, but a fighter bomber? A fighter bomber on a regular and uneventful day such as this was a rare sight indeed.

In fact, it made Al perk up a bit.

“No way… You couldn’t have!” Alphonse exclaimed excitedly. “What type of plane was it? Was it one of ours?!”

Al’s heart soared, only to fall back to earth again upon hearing his brother's next words.

“I think... I think it was a North American Mustang,” the tall back of the sofa chair sang softly. “You know, I… I get the feeling he took off without me...”

I get the feeling he took off without me.

Alphonse disliked Roy, but that didn’t mean he didn’t care about him. Maybe on another cloudless day, the coming together of the news of Roy’s… of Roy’s  _death_ … crashing together with the calm and stillness of his surroundings, would have resulted in a storm. A devastation.

But that was not so.

The past three days had been different somehow. Even if it was merely an assumption that Roy had departed from the other world, Alphonse still should have felt something. Because there was already so much that he had been dealing with, and holding onto, and now on top of that, Roy was probably gone. And Edward probably would have liked to have gone with him.

But the  _sting_  of Roy’s flight…

Alphonse was too tired. He was too numb. He was too bothered, and yet he felt all too much to address…  _the knot_  in his stomach. The  _tightness_  in his chest. The persistent  _lump_  in his throat. The undying feeling that something was wrong, not with Earth, not with the Heavens, but with something that lived within _himself_.

Something within.

That something was pushed to the side and masked with humor and the tiredness of the everyday. With a soft sigh, Alphonse stepped forward, balled up a fist, and gently pounded his brother atop the head, just as Ed would sometimes do when they were very young. They would bicker, and would not know how to address such an emotion, just as Alphonse didn’t know how to address his emotions now.

“Ouch!” Ed exclaimed, putting his hands to his head. “What was that for?”

“Geeze, stop being so dramatic, Brother! Besides, a North American Mustang has no business in German skies.”

Edward looked up at Al, his cheeks hollow and his skin as white as paper. Against this lack of color, the dark circles beneath his tired eyes looked like bruises. But despite this, and the fact that his voice had gone just a tad deeper over time, the voice which Edward Elric possessed was the same. He still possessed the same spirit.

“It’s all one sky- everybody owns it, and anybody can go there!” Edward stated, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “And besides, the Americans are always going places where they have no business going!”

“True…” Alphonse hummed. “That’s true…”

Edward suddenly doubled over a the waist, slipping into a fit of loud, wet coughs which he caught in a trembling fist.

“You okay?” Alphonse asked worriedly, gently touching a hand to Edward’s back. “Want some water?”

Edward said nothing, even after the coughing subsided. He simply sat himself upright again. And then upon realizing that sitting upright implies that you have something to sit upright for- you have something that you have to address… Well, Edward slouched again and bent his head, smoothing out the wool blanket which covered his lap.

And staying in that same position, he repeated those same words.

“I think he left without me…”

Alphonse cared for his brother. He cared about his feelings, but even though Edward hadn’t even mentioned Roy’s name, layered onto this care was a feeling. A disruption within himself, a slight heat coursing through his veins. It is in anxiety that people notice these small changes within the self.

“Don’t trouble yourself with such things,” Al said softly as he came around to the front of the sofa chair. “Let’s bring you to bed.”

“But I want to stay by the window...” Ed said almost sadly.

“You can see the window just fine from your bed.”

It was then that a bony hand reached out a took hold of his wrist, grip weak, but golden eyes pleading.

“ _Please, Al_... I just wanna stay by the window…”

He had said the same thing before, but this time, in the ‘please’ at the beginning, and the sincerity of the whole sentence, it sounded like a need rather than a want. In a way that terrified Al, because wants can wait, but needs cannot. When you need something, it means that the sands of time are already slipping out from between your fingers.

Alphonse eyed the four poster bed on the opposite side of the room and let out soft, tired sigh.

“How about this? You go to bed, and then I’ll push the bed closer to the window.”

Edward nodded his head with agreement.

Alphonse later realized that maybe moving the chair with Edward in it first would be easier. But he came to the conclusion that carrying him to bed first would be the least awkward, and the most comfortable for his elder brother. And so he came around and slipped his forearms beneath Ed’s legs, and under his arms, and with a slight grunt, he lifted him up. A reversal of roles- a reversal of what should have been could be found in such a thing.

That by itself was jarring, but what hurt Alphonse the most about carrying his brother across the room and into bed was the fact that he was so incredibly light. So light it made his stomach turn. He felt every bone, even through his clothes. And Al had tried  _so hard_  not to let things come to this- he’d tried so very hard for so very long...

And yet his brother was so sickeningly light.

“Aren’t I heavy?” Edward asked as Alphonse set him down upon the mattress.

“The bed’s heavier than you are, silly!” Al scoffed, coming around and tugging the headboard slightly away from the wallpapered wall.

“But it’s still heavy though.”

“Well it’s not like you’re going to get up and help me push it!” Alphonse chuckled, coming around to the back of the bed, prepared to push it forward to the window opposite. “Are you ready for takeoff?” he questioned.

“I’m scared…” he heard Edward whisper.

“That’s alright!” Al said in a strained voice as he began to push the cold iron bars of the bed frame, moving his weight, and the weight of the bed forward. “You’re making history! This is going to be the first four poster bed to be launched into outer space!”

Alphonse fought against the weight of the metal he bore, and the bed slid across the floorboards with a quiet scraping sound. There was a slight resistance as the bed made its mark, thin, white lines carving themselves into the wood, just as people leave their mark upon the world around.

Alphonse maneuvered the bed so that it sat before the window, moved the chair to the side, and pushed it forward to its final resting place. He stood upright, and he put his hands to his hips, and he let out a gentle, ragged breath. And in this letting go, he felt a slight sting in his eyes, and a familiar ache in his heart. The sort of feeling you feel when you’re hurt. When you truly hurt. But have yet to come to terms with the reason why.

“There,” Alphonse whispered, sitting down upon the mattress beside Edward’s legs. “Is that good?”

“Yeah,” Edward replied quietly, staring out the window before him.

Ed looked out the window. And Alphonse looked at Ed. And within this moment between moments, there fell a quiet. A wind. A warmth. A small smile. A tugging at the heart. There was this particular feeling that Alphonse got. And this feeling was for his brother, and no one else. And again it fell at the thought of that man… that terrible man.

How dare he cause this hurt… How dare he cause this pain...

Pale fingers clenched around the folds of the duvet covers.

“So... you said you saw a Mustang, huh?” Alphonse asked, looking out at the pale blue sky before him.

“Yeah,” Ed said with a slight nod of his head.

“You think about him a lot?”

When Edward didn’t reply, Alphonse turned his attention back to Ed.

“What is it?” Al asked with concern.

“I think of him, but it wouldn’t mean much,” Edward admitted, his golden eyes still reflecting the powdery blue of the world beyond. “And it wouldn’t change much. And it doesn’t describe the way my heart aches.”

“Does it ache now?”

“All the time,” Edward answered, looking at his brother for the first time in a while. “I see him all the time. I see him everywhere...”

That man… that terrible man…

And still, Alphonse felt sorry for his brother. He felt a need to ease his pain, despite his anger, because in a more perfect world, he would be able to address his own.

“You know… he’s right here…” Alphonse said, reaching over and gently touching a hand to the center of Ed’s chest.

Beneath the fabric of Edward’s nightgown, Alphonse felt a heartbeat, slow and silent, but steady.  

“It’s too quiet, though...” Edward suddenly stated, turning his attention back to the window. “It’s not… too quiet- it’s just not the same. Roy and I could sit around in his office and say nothing, but it was still… a time well spent. Because we were still spending that time together. And now there’s just…” He shrugged hi shoulders. “ _Nothing_. Even if we could write letters back and forth like we used to, there would still be those…  _quiet in-between times_. Those  _without_  times.”

“He’s not dead though. You’ll see him again. I’m sure of it.”

But Edward did not seem to believe him, doubt evident on his countenance.

With the billow of gossamer curtains, carried on a light breeze, came a terribly familiar emotion. Just as he did in lightness, in this heavy, Alphonse felt a certain guilt. He had to be strong, he had to keep his brother happy, and yet, he here had gone and made him upset. And since Ed was upset, he was upset as well, for that is how brothers who care for each other care.

They do so deeply.

“What are you going to say when you see Mustang again?” Al asked, trying to cheer his brother up.

Edward’s mouth fell slightly open with the sight of a single, passing cloud, as if carried on it was a wonder that took his breath away. And maybe it did.

“I miss you...” Edward eventually whispered.

Alphonse let out a light chuckle of amusement. “I thought you loved him or something silly like that...”

“Oh, I do...” Ed said with an almost wistful smile as he continued to stare at the air before him. “I do…”

Ed’s gaze, and the expression on his face, made it seem almost... it was almost as if He were there. And despite Edward’s loss, and his own loss, the blood within Alphonse’s veins warmed just a little.

“Then why don’t you say it?” Al questioned.

“Oh, I think he already knows…” Ed said, slouching forward a bit and resting his chin in the palm of his automail hand. “If he doesn’t, he’s stupid- he’s a stupid, stupid colonel… And if he didn’t know… Well, I don’t think I could bear it honesty...”

“I miss you…” Al hummed thoughtfully. “What do those three words mean?”

What do those words mean when you’re already reunited? What do those words mean when you’re already apart?

“It means exactly what it sounds like!” Ed stated, glancing over at all for just a second.

Alphonse let out a quiet scoff, happy that Edward had regained a bit of his energy and vigor.

“So you’re going to go see Roy, and the first thing that’ll come out of your mouth is ‘I missed you’. ‘Really?’ he’ll question. ‘Yeah. I missed you really’, you’ll answer. ‘How really?’ he’ll ask. And then what’ll you say?”

Ed looked out the window. And Alphonse looked at Ed. And within this moment between moments, there fell a quiet. A wind. A warmth. A small smile. A tugging at the heart.

“I’ll say that my heart swells in those quiet moments when I realize that this is the sort of love people spend the lives dreaming of.”

That man… that terrible man. How dare he cause this hurt; how dare he cause this pain...

“How sappy,” Alphonse said curtly, swiftly standing up from his seat at Edward’s side.

Al walked around the back of Edward’s bed and began to amble aimlessly about the edges of the room, but in this calmness which he forced upon himself, he clenched his fists. He balled up his fists at his sides and he let fingernails dig crescent moons into the flesh of his palms.

Was he angry?

Yes. Maybe. Maybe he was angry. When denial begins to melt away, reality, and the pain that accompanies it, re-emerges. And we learn that we are not ready. We are not ready at all to confront what we must confront- we are not ready to reach the end of our story.

Alphonse came to a stop before the nightstand now sitting alone against the opposite wall. Upon the wooden tabletop were some bottles of pills, a vase a of flowers, and finally the object which caught Al’s attention- a tiny leatherbound notebook.

“It’s a love story, after all,” Alphonse heard Edward mutter quietly to himself. “Yes…”

“One of your notebooks…” Alphonse hummed, fingers lightly brushing against the dusty cover before taking the book in his hands. “You kept one after all this time… Do you write love stories in it?” he questioned jokingly, thumbing through the crisp, white pages and ambling back over to Ed.

“I don’t write in it anymore,” Ed answered. “My others have alchemy notes and things, but this one’s different. It’s got some thoughts. A record of our travels. People we met.”

“Like Roy?” Al asked, coming to Ed’s beside and leaning his back up against the nearby wall.

“Like Roy,” Ed replied.

Maybe in that moment, Edward sensed Alphonse’s discomfort- he could sense a tension in the air. He had to be strong, he had to keep his brother happy, and yet, here he had gone and made him upset. And since Al was upset, he was upset as well, for that is how brothers who care for each other care.

Still holding the notebook in a hand that rested at his side, Alphonse gazed through the window, over Munich’s skyline, still a single cloud hanging lonely against the canvas of the sky. And at this solemn hour, Alphonse felt more like a child than he had in quite a while.

He did not understand how he felt. And yet the edges of gossamer curtains blew gently about, and caressed his cheek, as if in an attempt to comfort. To quell what was held within.

“It wasn’t all perfect,” Ed said quietly, “When we’re apart, I begin to think that what we have is a concoction of the mind, because we get along so well when we’re apart. I remember everything as being perfect. Together, so many tender moments are shared, and yet it always goes wrong somehow. Somebody always ends up getting hurt. Infidelity is out of the question, and so the only thing that can bring things to an end when we’re apart is missing the other person to the point that it’s too much to bear. But… we were always so good when we were apart... Is that a bad thing?”

Alphonse closed his eyes for a moment, his grip tightening around the tiny notebook held in his hand.

“It’s a good thing, I think,” he answered, suddenly feeling a slight sting in his eyes, accompanied by a tightening of the chest. “It’s a good thing...”

But with every word that passed Edward’s lips, his grip on the book grew tighter while his grip on himself became more and more slack- a wall crumbling, the waters rushing forth.

“I think… that distance and loss in a relationship is a good thing,” Edward said, “A steady…  _closeness_  between two people is a wonderful thing, but experiencing a loss of someone leads one to… to either realize, or be reminded of, how important the other person is. To the point that it  _redefines_  the meaning of importance. And you start to think that no one else in the history of the universe has ever understood the meaning of such a word, and the emotion which accompanies it, and this knowing that… this person… holds a certain weight. Which cannot be described by… by the spoken and written word. I think that’s when you know you’ve got something special.”

A quick smack was heard as the notebook in Alphonse’s hands hit the floor and fell. But the most jarring thing was Al’s doubling over at the waist, the knitting of his fingers into his golden hair, the spitting out of words, the vomiting up of what was held within.

 _“You don’t understand!”_  Alphonse cried out.

Looking up at his brother, he found that his vision was blurred, but he continued to speak. He continue to choke on his words.

“You don’t understand, you don’t… you don’t  _open your eyes_ and see that I’m here!” Alphonse shouted, “The person you worked so hard to find, the person you worked so hard to save, the person you worked so hard to be with, and now, it’s… it’s nothing! And I don’t understand the reason why!”

“Al-”

“Do you even realize that I’m here?! This… this isn’t a love story- it’s about... it’s about you and me, it’s about us, and you forgot that, you’ve forgotten me, and now I’m all alone! I’m living, I’m breathing, I’m caring for you, I’m knowing you, and I can… I can spend the time with you in a way that he can’t. I… I hurt! Can you see that?! The only reason why I feel like… like this pain I feel is bearable is because you’re the one who gave it to me in the first place!”

Alphonse paused, catching his breath, his breathing heavy, but slow and steady like the roll of hot tears down warm, rosy cheeks. Such a child he was. So vulnerable he was. He knew that his brother was looking at him. That was what he wanted. And yet his vision was so blurred, he couldn’t even see.

Al opened his mouth, only to close and open it once again, his throat too tight to speak.

“You’re here…” Alphonse finally choked, his voice breaking. “And I’m here... Please, don’t leave me behind…”

“ _Oh, Al_ …” Edward breathed, “Of course it’s a love story. I can’t call to mind a single second spent not loving you.”

In that moment, Alphonse felt something within him tug him forward. And giving way to this, he quickly sat down beside his elder brother, who in his love, and in his care, drew his younger brother close, just as he did when they were young. He hugged Al’s head to his chest, close to his beating heart. And Alphonse felt it- Alphonse felt that steady heartbeat, and it brought forth a resurgence of tears as Ed stroked his honey-colored hair.

“But I’m sorry,” Edward said gently, nuzzling his cheek into his brother's hair. “I’m so sorry you felt that way. But someday you’ll learn that there is not a finite amount of space within a heart. I love Roy with all my heart, and I love you with all my heart as well. You know, the best thing about… about having a sibling is that it seems like you’ll always have someone by your side. And the worst thing is that someday, you won’t, and such a thing is a fact. But I love you. So very much. And I’m glad that in going first, I don’t have to lose you another time. But I love you… so very much…”

“I don’t wanna let go…” Alphonse gasped.

And he didn’t.

Such a thing is not a solution. It will not fix anything. It will not bring an end to the inevitable. It will not fill the empty that dwells within- it will not do any those things. But that is what Alphonse did for a very, very long time.

Even after.

Leather briefcase lay in lap, handle held tightly by pale fingers, skin lightly weathered with age. Thumb stroked the padded leather handle, as heels were heard tapping upon the tile floor beyond, the sound out of tune with the song playing softly in a nearby newsstand- Madonna’s ‘Crazy For You’. The rumbling roll of suitcase wheels blended in with the muffled roar of commercial airplanes speeding down the runway outside of the terminal of Munich International Airport.

“But if having you means losing you…” an older Alphonse Elric sang softly to himself, “I don’t know if I want this…”

When his boarding group was called, Alphonse carefully stood from his seat at the gate’s waiting area. He let out a quiet, thoughtful breath before carefully standing up and taking in hand his walking cane.

The Zeppelin, the airplane, and the rocket, each flying higher than the next.

There was so much to find wonder in within this new world. It was an old world, a very old world indeed, but to Alphonse, it was still so very new. In the fifty five years since he had arrived in Germany with his brother, even as a senior, Alphonse still found himself to be a tourist. He still found himself going outside, craning his head back, and gazing upon the sky which only he, and his grown children, realized was different, not in the clouds it contained, but in its totality.

In its essence.

In its everything.

Roy was up there. Edward was up there. And as of last spring, Al’s wife was up there as well. But as long as their child, Susanna, was living in New York with her husband, to New York Alphonse would fly. Each time, each hour which did circle, bringing him closer to something.

A kind young woman helped Al put his suitcase away. He appreciated the help, but at the same time, he was a bit hesitant to accept it, just as his brother was in his youth. Despite the cry forever trapped in the tightness of his throat, he was strong, yes, he was strong.

He sat alone and looked out the window as the plane took off, zooming down the runway and then becoming weightless with the heaviness of his eyelids, a dream beckoning as they cruised high above the clouds.

He slept soundly, as Edward had in his passing. But unlike Edward, he eventually awoke, eyes still droopy with sleep, a gentle, undying hum heard throughout the cabin as silver balls of cotton became tinged a brilliant gold with the setting sun. But still, Alphonse was tired, just as Edward was in his final moments, and a part of Alphonse…

No, all of Alphonse…

In that quiet, sleepy moment, all of Alphonse wished that he too had a hand to hold in that moment. In this despair, Alphonse slowly reached for the tiny leatherbound notebook which he kept in the breast pocket of his jacket. Carefully thumbing through the thin, yellowed pages, he finally came to a dog-eared page which he then read in the silence of himself.

_**We had been apart for a couple of months when Al and I were doing some research into the whereabouts of The Philosopher’s Stone. And I don’t know how this could have possibly been, but he wrote me a letter. Such a thing had traveled far and exchanged several hands before finally reaching me. It took me by surprise, not only because it was delivered successfully, but because it arrived at that perfect and almost coincidental moment when I was thinking of him. And he had been thinking of me.** _

And in this sinking of word within the self, Alphonse suddenly felt so close. He felt like Edward was so close, and just as he came upon this feeling, onto his hand resting upon the armrest, he felt another come gently down upon it. He was as young as time had left him, looking quite dapper in a white suit. But he looked healthier than he ever had. And with golden eyes glistening, he turned to his younger brother and smiled a small, sweet smile.

But curiously enough, Alphonse sensed a certain nervousness within it.

And just as he began to wonder what caused this feeling of anxiety within his brother, just as he began to wonder what it was that had caused someone so strong to fall so hard, something at the front of the airplane’s cabin caught Edward’s attention. Staring at the figure at the other end of the aisle, Edward slowly put his hands on the back of the seat in front of him and languidly stood to his feet. And as a brilliant smile touched Edward’s face, causing a wetness in the eyes, Alphonse too felt the warmth of a joy blooming from within.

For he too saw a Mustang there in sky, dressed from head to toe in white. And standing in the middle of the aisle, Roy Mustang smiled.

_**“To be honest, Fullmetal, for the past three days, I’ve been fantasizing about you,” Roy wrote. “I think there’s just a part of me that misses kissing you, touching you, and so on. It’s just this weird, warm feeling that I get in my belly. But it’s not just lust- it’s a feeling I get for you and no one else. I hope you understand that. Is this what it feels like to be in love?”** _

_**And I wrote back.** _

_**“I don’t know, but I feel it too,” I replied. For I did, and I still do. “It’s an awful sort of feeling...”** _

Edward paused in the middle of an inhalation. With something that looked like alarm, he looked back down at Alphonse, and within both brothers was felt a twisting of the heart. For in a silent way… Edward was asking for his younger brother’s permission.

_**“If this is love, then I don’t know if I want it,” Roy wrote. “I love you. I love being in love with you, but somehow… in all my years, I never realized that loving someone could hurt so very much. I never realized that someone could be in so much pain. I dream of you during my waking hours, and so every moment is passed the same way. Because all the time, my thoughts turn to you, and I don’t think I could bear thinking of the loss of you for every second forever. ”** _

Unable to find his words, Alphonse nodded his head, his cheeks beginning to ache from the smile he wore.

And with that, Edward flew forward, running into his lover’s awaiting arms.

_**“I think that the solution… the cure for my pain... would be to let go of you. But I know that a life without you isn’t a life worth living, and so I hold on to my agony. I hold on tight. I close my eyes. And I wish that on the warmth of a summer wind, my dream takes flight. I pray that you feel me as I feel you… Even though we are worlds apart.”** _


End file.
